Recorded live at the Crucible — a legendary Circuit venue in the industrial waterfront district — during a single unannounced performance on 14 March 2209, Salt and Current captures Maren Solís-Ekwueme at what many consider the peak of her powers. She performed alone: no band, no backing track, no neural augmentation feed. Just a modified lap steel guitar with custom fretwork that allowed quarter-tone bends, a loop pedal built from salvaged transit equipment, and her voice. The performance ran three hours and forty minutes. Nobody left. The venue's in-house recording system captured it in raw, uncompressed audio — crowd noise, ambient machinery from the dockyard next door, and all.

The album was self-released by Solís-Ekwueme on physical vinyl and unencrypted data chip in 2210, pressed in a run of eight hundred copies that she sold from a Circuit market stall over three weekends. It has since been copied countless times. Standout tracks include 'Lake Mouth,' a slow-building piece in which she loops her own voice into a six-part choir over twelve minutes, the harmonics shifting from West African call-and-response into something that has no cultural precedent; 'Meridian Winter,' a Circuit folk lament she wrote for a friend who died in a Shelf collapse the previous year, performed here with the crowd quietly singing the chorus back to her; and 'Current (Reprise),' the closing piece, forty minutes long, which listeners and critics have never quite agreed how to describe. The phrase that keeps appearing in reviews is 'like being forgiven for something you didn't know you'd done.'